The Depths of Love
by childliketendencies
Summary: Faced with having to spend their college years far away from each other, Rachel decides to take a very special memento of Finn with her. Only – getting it might not be so easy. And trouble might not be far, once Finn finds out.
1. You may now take a picture

_**Title:**__ Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love_

_**Rating:**__ NC-17_

_**Pairing:**__ Finn & Rachel_

_**Disclaimer:**__ Nope, still not my characters. They belong to Glee and Fox and all that jazz._

_**Summary:**__ Faced with having to spend their college years far away from each other, Rachel decides to take a very special memento of Finn with her. Only – getting it might not be so easy. And trouble might not be far, once Finn finds out._

Her head had been resting on his bare chest, not bothered at all by the sheen of sweat that covered his skin – in fact, her hand was slowly tracing the fine beads of sweat along shallow hills and valleys of his muscular chest. His hand was covering the back of her head, his index finger drawing lazy circles onto her scalp, idly twining and playing with her damp curls.

Finn loved just lying there, basking in post-coital bliss, and the fact that she was just draped over him like this without a worry, without a need to put any of her current feelings into so many words, made such moments even more special to him. Of course, the fact that one of her hands was currently wrapped around his dick – still erect in spite of his exhaustion and their recent activities – wasn't something to neglect, but that was just a really kinky added bonus.

If it had been up to him he could've lain there for forever doing absolutely nothing. Silent. Content. His heart full to the point of overflowing. Her head resting over his heart, listening to its slowing beat as their bodies adjusted and came off that giddy high of reaching their climax together. It didn't happen every time, but when it did…? It was some sort of higher state of being. And he was pretty sure she felt the same way even if they'd never talked about it.

So he'd just been glorying in that sensation when he felt her fingers change direction and the soft brushes of nail against skin traced a direct line from his chest down to his belly and then hopped over to the tip of his dick – still erect in spite of their recent activities and the exhaustion he felt creeping into his bones. He drew in a long and shaky breath as her thumb swirled once around the tip before all fingers began a slow descent down its length. The resulting shiver that ran through him made him almost overhear her.

"Did you ever measure it?"

He wasn't sure if he'd heard her correctly. Her voice was more sing-song than usual, making his heart speed up with that weird flutter that he only got when listening to her sing, and for a moment he totally forgot what she'd asked in the first place.

"Huh?" he finally managed, not really wanting to destroy this blissful mood by conversation but knowing that now that she'd started there would be no stopping it without pulling out the big guns.

"Did you ever measure it – how long it is… you know?"

His eyes, closed since he'd slipped out of her and collapsed onto the bed next to her, flew open. Aghast, he stared down at the mass of brunette curls that effectively hid her face, not quite wanting to believe her words. If she felt his reaction – _surely she had to, wasn't his heart beating like crazy once again?_ – she didn't let it show. Her head never moving an inch, it seemed like she was in some sort of trance as her fingers finished their trail down his cock and tried to wrap themselves around its girth. He wasn't sure if it was that or her question which suddenly made not only his throat constrict but also seemed to increase his awareness of every pore and cell and square inch of skin of his once more throbbing erection.

They'd been together for three years, but Rachel Berry never ceased to surprise him somehow.

"Uhh … no?"

He barely managed to squeeze the words out, opting to flat out deny having ever done anything like that rather than embarrassing himself by admitting that he and Puck'd been in some sort of competition all through middle and high school to see who could sport the biggest dick. They practically lived with a ruler in their pants for most of freshman year of high school, measuring anything there was to measure on an almost daily basis. (And as far as he knew he'd won.)

"Would you say maybe 6 inches?" she continued, still in that dreamy tone of voice that was quickly becoming an even bigger turn-on than what her hand was doing to his dick.

"Seven and a half," he said, correcting her before he could stop himself. She moved her head slightly and giggled into his chest. _Crap_, he realised with an internal groan of embarrassment as his cheeks seemed to catch fire – _if he hadn't just busted himself_…

But his embarrassment was swept away a moment later as her head moved again. Looking down at himself, he met her eyes as they looked up at him, her chin resting on his skin right above his belly button, and there was something in that look – that crazy Rachel Berry intensity that he so loved blazing from her hooded eyes, mixed with a spark of amusement and something else that he wasn't quite able to place – that made his stomach flip and the drumming of his heart threaten to explode past his ears.

Apparently satisfied with what she'd seen in his eyes – _love? Lust?_ – she stuck out her tongue and licked a slow circle around his belly button, never ceasing to look into his eyes. A low growl escaped his lips as a shiver of anticipation ran along his entire body. He knew what was going to come next – they'd long ago dubbed it the Rachel Berry Special during one of those crazy, sexy, try-anything-you-heard-of nights of experimentation in the days after New York. His head pushed back against the pillows, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the coming onslaught on his senses.

But instead of the familiar sensation of her hot breath against his skin and her tongue flicking like a delicate butterfly up the length of his straining cock, he felt something cold and definitely out of place touch his inner thigh for a moment. And then –

-_click_-

-_click_-

What the fuck? Pushing himself up on his elbows he tried to see what was going on, his lust-addled brain attempting to assign the conflicting sensations to one particular thing. For a long moment he simply stared down at the spectacle that offered itself, not sure he really was seeing what he did.

She was sitting between his legs with her flipcam in her hands and an oddly satisfied smirk on her lips. As he stared, she put the camera away and began to bend down again, but the bizarre turn of events finally had sunk in, and he gripped her by the shoulders before her tongue could even reach the tip of his cock.

"Did you just…" - he found he was too stunned for a moment to continue, his tongue oddly clumsy in his mouth, and had to start over – "did you just take pictures of it?"

Rachel simply grinned and nodded several times, her torso straining against his grip on her shoulders, her eyes wandering down, her tongue flicking across her lips for a second as she eyed his cock between them, now standing up straight into the air like a soldier at attention.

Staring back at her and somehow also at his own dick that was sort of in the direct way between them – _which was kinda weird_ – made him lose focus. He wanted to find out, yes – it should have been important to find out what this was all about, but somehow that lascivious flick of her tongue had totally pushed its importance back a few notches. "Why?" he managed to squeeze out finally, a shiver running through him as his hard cock twitched and the spots where he'd put his hands onto her shoulders started to feel like they were fusing together from their body heat.

And then it just didn't matter to him anymore whether she had any answer or what it was, as his arms gave way and she immediately sunk her head down over his crotch, taking his cock in all the way at once – all that long way down to the back of her throat. His eyes rolled back and his breath hitched. And then all that was left of him was that seven and a half inches of throbbing, hard cock being licked and sucked and squeezed and kissed by her, and nothing in the world was more important than how that made him feel.

_A/N: Yes, this is going to be a multi-chapter story (in three parts). No, I'm not going to make you wait half a year for an update. The second chapter is already written and shall be uploaded tomorrow night. Yes, I am very sorry for keeping everyone waiting on updates for the other stories – I just got over the worst case of writers block ever. But my muse is back and in action now. And I've moved on to smut._

_A giant big thank you to all my Fildos ladies – especially my twinnie Laura and wifey (and awesome Beta) Eera. Thanks for sticking by me and shouting at me to write every now and then. Without you I'd never have managed it._


	2. Jazzy hot Kurtio strikes again

A/N: Thank you so very much for all the favourable reviews! Please feel free to leave more! Anyway, this chapter goes off on a tangent, you might think, but rest assured it's got its rightful place in this fic. It can't all be smutty now, can it? Oh, and btw, the time this story plays in is the summer right after their Senior year at high school.

. . . . . . . .

"Sso whatcha think ofit?" he slurred, hanging onto the banisters outside the door of her door as if his life depended on it.

"What do I think of what? The inane way you, Sam and Puck behave whenever there's so much as a whiff of alcohol in the air? Or Santana Lopez once again taking pleasure in driving the proverbial stake into some poor girl's heart as she publicly devoured that boy? I wish she'd at least leave the younger ones alone."

Rachel felt moderately annoyed at the way the evening had ended up. The summer was drawing to a close faster than she was comfortable with, and attending the numerous farewell parties thrown in the senior's honour had begun to feel like a chore rather than fun. At least to her – while she wished she could just stay home with Finn and spend time with him rather, it was clear that he seemed to enjoy himself immensely. But she knew him – she knew that this last summer of going to asinine parties and behaving like a drunken buffoon was his way of saying goodbye to his high school self, so she went along. At least, with her there, she knew he wasn't going to get into any trouble.

"Th'movie! 'meant th' movie, Rach-" he said, and stumbled past her into her room where he shuffled over to her bed and slumped more than threw himself backwards onto it, his head landing in between the pink pillows. Shawn the stuffed toy-sheep fell off the headboard and landed on his face. "Geddoff me, you!" she heard him mumble but he made no attempt to move the toy; instead he crossed his arms over his chest and pulled his mouth into a satisfied smirk, his eyes closed.

Movie? Having felt a little peeved for a moment that she'd wasted an excellent jibe at Santana's expense on her too-drunk-to-care boyfriend, Rachel looked down at the spectacle before her and decided Santana wasn't worth her time anymore. She'd already picked the latino's deplorable actions apart with Mercedes and Quinn, and if Finn's grin was anything to go by, he hadn't heard her anyway. So instead she tried to think of whether there had been a movie playing at any time during the party that night. She could recall something in the background on one of the tv screens while he and the other Glee boys had been busy making fools of themselves playing poker with a bunch of college kids someone had invited, but she hadn't paid attention to that at all, spending her entire time with her girls instead.

"I didn't watch it, Finn."

His eyes still closed and the grin still in place, he raised one hand off his stomach and patted the empty space next to him on the bed. "Cmon'ere, babe."

She sighed, and bent down to pull off the shoes from his feet that were dangling off the side of her bed. This was why she didn't like these party nights anymore – they'd been novel and fun in the beginning but she'd rather spend her nights talking, making love to a sober Finn rather than an inebriated Finn. Especially since the nights they could still be together like this were getting lesser and lesser, the moment of their own farewell as they were parting to go to different schools in different states coming uncomfortably closer. She knew that it wasn't leaving him unaffected – but she wished he'd have chosen a different way than by just seeking oblivion in getting drunk every now and then. It wasn't fair on her.

"Don'tellim, bu'I alwaysh 'ink'th'Threepio soundsh 'bit like Kurt…" his voice floated across the bed to her as she busied herself with his second shoe, and she knew he was more talking to himself than to her. Who or what was Three-Pee-Oh? "… wuddn' he look jussht hila-hil- funny wearin'one 'f Kurtsh' knee-long sshweaterssh?"

Rachel looked up and stared at her boyfriend's face. Kurt hadn't worn one of those for a long time – and who was this Threepio and what did he sound like, that Finn thought Kurt had better not know he sounded like him? Something told her Kurt wouldn't feel flattered at all.

"Who is Three-Pee-Oh?" she asked him, curious now, and moved forward to kneel on the bed next to him.

"Hesha'droid," was his prompt reply, and then he chuckled to himself. "Whaddif Kurt wassh all gold like 'im?"

She'd been about to undo his belt and his jeans buttons in order to pull off his pants and had just been about to heave another sigh at his ridiculous drunken mumblings, but the sudden mental picture of Kurt looking like a golden robot with spindly arms and legs while singing Le Jazz Hot popped into her mind. Bursting out with laughter, she collapsed onto the bed alongside him, her arm coming to rest on his chest.

For a good few minutes they were both unable to stop giggling like maniacs, him still with his eyes closed, his arm now slung around her shaking shoulders, her breaking out in new fits of giggles as she told him song after song of 'Golden Robot Kurt's repertoire. But then his chuckling got lesser and quieter and she realised he was about to drop off to sleep, and she suddenly felt close to tears.

Snuggling against him she buried her face into his shirt and fought against the urge to cry. This wasn't the time for it. It was still a couple of weeks until they had to leave Lima, she wasn't going to spend any of it wallowing in misery, especially not if she was with him… she'd promised herself she wouldn't, and that was that.

"Luvvyoshomushhh…." He whispered into the quiet room, and his free hand came away from his chest to slowly brush away a few strands of her hair from her face.

That was all it took to make her resolve disappear into thin air. Clutching at his shirt pocket as if it contained the anchor that would forever tie her to him, hot tears spilled from her eyes and soaked into his shirt. His hand patted the back of her head before he shifted himself sideways, draping his entire arm around her, pulling her closer to himself until her head was nestled in the hollow underneath his chin. That close, smelling the familiar scent of his aftershave still lingering on his skin, it was a thousand times harder to stop the flow of tears, and while she'd held back before, she had not the strength to do so now.

"Sssssssssssssssshhhhhhh- Rach don'crypleashdon'cry," he mumbled into her hair, and moved his head down to touch her forehead with his lips in a hesitant kiss. Rachel turned her face up towards him, touched her forehead to his, her eyes shut tight against all of the misery that she wished she could simply make disappear again. But the tears wouldn't stop rolling down her cheeks, no matter how much his fingers tried to wipe them away. "Ssshhhhh babe, 'sh'okay," she heard him whisper again and again, his voice growing fainter.

Annoyance stirred in her once again at that - how could he fall asleep in the middle of comforting her? She opened her eyes, tried to see past a curtain of tear-soaked eye-lashes, blinked away the blurredness in order to check on him. She expected to see eyes drowsy with the onset of sleep, set in a face at peace with the world as he slipped into some dream; she didn't expect to see his eyes tightly shut, his face a mask of despair, his lips trembling as he had them pressed tightly against one another. And as she watched, a tear escaped from the corner of his right eye.

And just like that, her own mood shifted, her misery being swept away by the sheer force of the love she felt inside her own heart for this boy. Her arms snaked around his neck; she needed to hold him close, feel him fully against her, feel his heart beat against hers; hungrily she pressed her lips to his, her tongue seeking entrance to him, seeking to console, to comfort, to steal away his despair.

With a low moan, he let her. As she dipped her tongue into his mouth to meet his own, his hands reached up to the back of her neck, stroking her there, running his fingers through her hair in that way that he knew would turn her on almost instantly. He was rewarded by her body shivering against his, a breathy sigh escaping from her lips as she pulled away from his mouth and started lavishing his chin and neck with kisses. His leg slipped over hers, and with one quick move he'd turned around onto his back again, pulling her along so her body was right on top of his.

She immediately made herself more comfortable, sliding backwards until she felt the familiar presence of his hardening erection between her legs. Letting go of his neck, she quickly pulled her shirt off, staring down at him as he looked up at her out of hooded eyes. Shifting her body just a tad bit forward and into him, she reached back with both hands and slowly undid the clasp of her bra. She heard him draw a sharp breath as she pulled the offensive item off, and then his hands were on her breasts, cupping them, stroking them, playing with each nipple as he liked to do.

But his arms felt heavy, and after a few moments his fingers went back to that spot on the back of her neck and pulled her head down to him. Another shiver ran down her spine, the vibration setting her core on fire, and she pressed herself down hard against his straining cock.

Pulling his shirt out of his pants she pushed it up towards his neck, and attacked his stomach and ribs with her tongue, leaving a trail of wet skin all the way down to his beltline where her shaky hands were once again busy opening his pants, pulling them and his boxers down and pushing aside her own panties.

But she failed to get a moan out of him when she rubbed her wet pussy along the length of his hard cock.

Looking up at his face, she realised why. He was blissfully asleep, that trademark half-grin etched on his face. Groaning to herself, she slumped forward and let her head rest on his heart, knowing from experience that it would be pointless to try and wake him now.

. . . . . . . . .

Lying there still in the same position half an hour later, feeling irritatingly unfulfilled, she'd decided she might as well use this opportunity to go ahead with the crazy plan she'd come up with a few weeks ago. Her first attempt had been pointless, born out of a spur-of-the-moment idea with no information to back her up.

She knew anything she'd do to him while he was in this state of drunken oblivion would likely go completely unnoticed, so why shouldn't she do it? And it was only fair – in a way – for leaving her so unsatisfied. Actually, in more ways than that one; for at least she would have a piece of him always with her. Even if it wasn't going to be as good as having him there with her, she would have this one memento of him, and perhaps that would make it a tiny bit less difficult to be apart? She hoped so. She really did.

Careful not to disturb him too much, Rachel slowly lifted herself up and off her boyfriend's body, to go look for the box of utensils she'd prepared and hidden from plain eyesight and read the instructions very carefully one more time.


	3. All for a glass of water

_A/N: So glad you're enjoying it so far. And it seems my intentions are quite transparent – but we're not getting that far yet. Let me introduce you to a new character first…. you might see quite a bit of her in other future fics, so I hope you'll grow to like her._

. . . . . . . .

As quietly as he could, Finn raised himself up on his elbows and looked over to his sleeping girlfriend who was lying next to him, her back turned to him, her left cheek resting on her clasped hands, a hint of a smile playing on her lips even in her sleep as a stray moonbeam cast a weak spotlight through the window onto her face. Looking at her like this, he was filled with an overwhelming sense of protectiveness, of wanting to make sure nothing would ever happen to her. But it also filled him with an odd sort of dread that he'd never been able to shake: the fear that he wasn't going to be good enough, not just that he couldn't physically protect her – wasn't really possible, living two states away from her – but that he was going to fail her in some other way, too, some day. Maybe he already had, just by staying with her against the odds. Because no one deserved to be this happy, for this long, right? As he watched her, the light of the moon died away, casting the room into inky darkness again.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to ignore his dread, and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. The headache that he'd woken up to moments earlier reasserted itself with a painful throbbing right above his brows. Suppressing the urge to groan, he slipped his half of the blanket off and sat up on the side of the bed, wondering if he should wake Rachel and ask her for some aspirin. He'd rather not – she needed her sleep after the long day of showing him around the city; maybe he'd be fine if he just got himself a glass of water from the kitchen and drank that.

From the other side of her closed bedroom door he could still hear low noises; the TV running, someone's feet shuffling by in the hallway, a water tap being turned on and off, water running, plates clinking. The longer he listened, the more distinct he could make them out. These walls were really almost paper-thin. And there was no doubt that the noises came from Mara, Rachel's elusive room-mate about whom he'd heard all kinds of horror stories since Rachel had moved to New York. Finn wasn't sure if he really wanted to meet this woman, after all the tales he'd heard, but he had to give her some credit: after Hiram Berry had persuaded her to act as a kind of guardian to his precious daughter when he'd come to the city to sign the rent contract with her, Finn had thought his visits to Rachel were going to be uncomfortably spent sneaking around and sleeping by himself in some cheap hotel, but his girlfriend had told him Mara had reacted to the news of his arrival with nothing but a knowing smirk and a nod. She therefore couldn't be all that bad – he had a shrewd idea that Rachel didn't want to see past her own level of annoyance at her dad's meddling and had therefore stubbornly decided to dislike her roommate/guardian just to spite her dads. It was a streak of childishness he found oddly lovable about her.

In the darkness he stuck out his foot and felt around with it on the floor until his toes encountered the soft material of fabric. Picking it up and making sure it was a shirt as he probed it for the right amount of openings, he hoped it was his own before slipping it over his head. They'd used her roommate's absence earlier to pretty much rip each other's clothes off and make up for lost time – _could one get a headache from too much sex?_ – and both their clothes were strewn all around the room. Getting up slowly, he then tiptoed around the bed to the other side and opened the door to the hallway.

Making sure to turn the knob all the way and not letting go until the door met the frame and the lock could slide back without making a noise – _yeah, he was totally good at sneaking around _- he closed the door, keeping an eye on the sleeping Rachel until the last moment, just to be sure she hadn't woken up. Turning around, he almost jumped out of his skin when he unexpectedly found himself face to face with Rachel's roommate.

"Nice shirt," Mara said. Looking down at himself, Finn realised he was wearing Rachel's oversized, blue polka-dotted nightshirt instead of his own, but any embarrassment he might have felt was overridden by the woman's own appearance: she was wearing some sort of full-body dress with a garish print of some kind of dizzyingly bright multi-coloured snake winding round and round her body like a Technicolor mummy, and there was an equally bright lime-green turban on top of her head. Carrot-red whisps of hair stuck out left and right from underneath that, and with her double chin and two round button-like eyes she kind of looked a bit like that fat penguin in Happy Feet, except for the clothes. For a second Finn wondered if she'd choke on the necklace she had on her, too, one day, because it looked just as tightly wound round her neck. He stopped himself from staring at it too hard – if she did, she probably wouldn't do it right there and then.

The woman really was something else. The freakiest thing about her was the smirk on her face though. It was sort of nice – humorous, Rachel would say – but there were a bunch of other things mixed in with it, and he had no idea what other things since he had just met her for the first time. Amusement, probably, because of his shirt. He decided to focus on her eyes, and concentrated on feeling embarrassed about the shirt, because he was pretty sure he'd not manage to stop himself from cracking up looking at the rest of her. She was a lot older than him, though, and he should be respecting his elders, so…. Yeah, she probably wouldn't find it funny at all. He was fairly certain he was supposed to say something or the woman would probably think he was a total dimwit.

"Ehh… hi. I'm Finn," he managed, and stuck out his hand.

She took it and squeezed it with a grip that could have squeezed dry a whole lemon in 5 seconds flat. A sound like a low chuckle bubbled from her lips, before she responded, "I know. And I'm Mara – but you know that, too."

And then, if this woman hadn't already been freaky enough, she went and did something that really totally threw him: Smirk still in place, she looked him over – from top to bottom, her eyes moving very slowly, making it very obvious that she was indeed checking him out. If he'd been a dog, it would have raised his heckles – he wasn't though, and all it did was make him blush furiously to his further discomfort. What was this woman doing?

"You're not bad looking, lad. I can see why Rachel would want to keep you around. I've heard lots of things about you….. and seen some," she offered with another chuckle and disturbingly knowing grin at the end. Had she really just checked out his crotch when she'd said that? He was sure his ears were on fire or something. What had she meant by that? It couldn't be that Rachel actually had described anything to her - could it? Or worse even: shown her? She wouldn't - would she?

"Uhh… ahh… th-thanks," he muttered, acutely uncomfortable now, wanting to get away from her as fast as he could. Why had he thought it would be a good idea to go meet this roommate now? Every instinct said: RUN. Maybe he could forget about that glass of water. It wasn't so important, really. Not as important as escaping from the crazy lady with the knowing eyes.

"Don't be worryin' about the noise 'n'all. I got meself some earplugs. So you two can go at it all night if you want and I wouldn't hear a thing."

Finn stared at her, not sure if he'd really heard her right. But as if she'd read his mind, she stepped up close to him and patted his left cheek with a chubby hand, adding with a laugh, "Don't mind me, lad. I've got a habit of blurting out what's on my mind, and folks over on this side of the pond aren't ready for it. 'Specially if it's about sex. Makes you uncomf'table, I know. I promise I'll behave from now on."

He gulped, his discomfort having grown infinitesimally larger since she'd come so close. He had a thing for word vomit, too, but this was something else. When he dared to look at her, though, she was eyeing him with what could best be described as a quizzical look.

"Mind you, I wouldn't've pegged you for the type, but I figure that girl of yours knows how to get what she wants, right?" He nodded, without really knowing why. "Yeah, she's a good girl. Bit of a firecracker, right? Sure she'd have to be…" Mara gave off a disturbingly cackling laugh. "Okay, shutt'n up now. So – were you needin' anything?"

Open-mouthed, he just stood there, staring. Was this woman for real? He knew she was from somewhere European – Ireland? Was this the way they talked about stuff like that over there? With almost total strangers?

"Lad? …Finn?" she said when he failed to say anything.

Hearing his name finally snapped him out of it. "Uhh… sorry. Yeah. Water. I mean – some water. To drink," he muttered, his eyes darting from her to the kitchen at the far end of the hallway. He didn't want her to go get it for him – he'd be fine if she'd just go to whatever was her room and disappear so he wouldn't have to try and think of some way to talk to this woman any further without Rachel being there to save—_ahh, help_ – him. "Got a headache. But I think I'll just go back to bed and sleep it off. Don't mind me," he said, trying to sound like this was really the best thing to do, and turned around back to the door of Rachel's room.

"Oh," came crazy lady's voice from behind him. "Nothin' easier than that, lad. She's got some pills for that in her drawer. Wait here!"

Frozen in mid-motion as his hand was already turning the doorknob again, he found himself irrationally responding to her words as if fearing she'd turn into some multi-coloured monster to swallow him whole if he didn't do as told – some giant multi-coloured snake or something. He didn't even dare move his head to look over his shoulder at what she was doing, but there was no need. He could hear her footsteps retreating, a cupboard banging shut, the water running once again – and then her footsteps were coming back. He flinched when her hand made contact with his as she pushed the glass of water at him.

A clap on his shoulder was the last thing, aside from her chuckled "Nightnight, Finny D," – and then he bolted through the door, face aflame, heart racing, spilling half the water over himself as he hastily locked the door behind him in the welcoming darkness of Rachel's room. Sinking back against the door once it had safely shut out the madwoman outside, he stared through the gloom at the sleeping form of his girlfriend.

He couldn't believe she had told that woman about the nickname she liked to use for him. But how else would her nutjob-roommate know about it?

. . . . . . . . .

_A/N #2: Apart from some small similarities in body type and expressions, she really has nothing in common with me :-p Especially not the outfit. But then – don't let Finn's first impression freak you out of liking her. He'll come to like her – eventually. Once he's realised she's not some sort of freaky pervert who's about to corrupt Rachel or something. For now – let's just say I needed a reason for him to start looking through Rachel's drawers. And went a really really roundabout way to get there. Feel free to leave a review and tell me what you think about it all!_


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